Older than Jesus
by peace of green
Summary: The story of a young boy named Godric in a Scottish village over 2000 years ago
1. Captured

**AN:** I fell in love with the character of Godric and always wondered where he came from and how he became how he was when we met him. I know there are quite a few versions of Godric's early life out there, but here is how I imagined it.

I tried to use my imagination mixed with some history, but sorry if everything isn't totally historically accurate. For those of you who don't know, the Picts were an ancient people who lived in Scotland.

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**Chapter 1**

_Captured_

Godric tried to comfort his sobbing sister as the horse hooves pounded by. They were in a strange, new village, so far from the home they had always known. Each had rope tied around both wrists and was strung out in the village center for others to gawk and throw stones at. They were spoils of war, symbols of victory. The only thing these barbaric people wanted from them was their youth and ability to do work. The only thing the children represented to the tribe was their own strength. They would never again be know as the children they once were.

Even as the wind howled around them, the whoops of the warriors could be heard as each returned to his wife and children. They all knew that this victory over the Celtic village would promise a hot feast and warm women in their beds. Godric and his sister were the sole survivors of the raid that the brutish Picts had led on their peaceful Celtic village. Both of Godric's parents and all he had ever known had been destroyed in the Picts' savage raid.

The boy had watched in horror as his father fought to the death to protect his mother, sister and him. He could do nothing when the Pict administered the fatal blow onto his father's chest and rushed into the house to ravish and murder his mother. Even as the warrior was slitting through his mother's throbbing jugular vein, Godric lunged forward, grabbed his father's fallen spear and leaped in front of his little sister, Fhina, in an attempt to protect her. The spear was far too heavy for Godric but he stared at the Pict warrior as the large man swung around to meet his miniscule opponent. The warrior stared back into the eyes that had seen so few years and stared chuckling. The savage look still remained in his eyes.

"You'll make a rite fine slave you will, little one," he growled. "You can't have seen more than seven years and already you're brandishing that spear as though you were meant to." He said, slowly approaching Godric. The warrior suddenly leapt back and shrieked with pain as Godric lunged forward with the spear and slashed the man's calf. "ARGGG you little bastard! I'm gonna have to teach you a few lessons about respectin' your elders."

With that, the warrior brushed the spear away and grabbed Godric and Fhina roughly by their arms and threw them onto his horse to join the successful raiding party on its way back to the Pict village. Godric tried to stay composed as Fhina sobbed onto his bare back.

Their captor's name was Drest. He was a large man and a skilled Pict warrior. Signs of his victories in battle were splayed across his body in the form of black tattoos that were so respected in the Pict society. He had a young wife named Genovefa who was well known for her beauty and cruelty. Although Drest was not the leader of the village, he was held in high regard for his ferocity it battle and his attractiveness. Drest and Genovefa weren't the kindest of masters. Most of the time, they kept Godric and Fhina well fed and they gave them places to sleep, but when it came to love and compassion, Drest and Genovefa had little to offer to anyone who wasn't kin. Genovefa always kept Fhina occupied with taking care of her children and helping cook and tend the fire. Godric would help herd the cattle all day and, every so often, would accompany Drest on hunting parties.

It was on these hunting parties that the villagers first began to notice Godric's potential. He could run faster and throw a spear into a deer better than any of the children and, despite being a slave, he gradually earned more respect from some villagers. However, it wasn't until Godric was nearing his twelfth year that he first really proved to the tribe his natural prowess as a fighter.

He was coming home from a hard day out herding cattle. A pack of wolves had taken out a few cattle and when Drest found out, he had beaten Godric and sent him away without food. As Godric neared his hut, a boy of about sixteen, named Eogen, who had always shown animosity towards Godric, shouted at him from a few huts away.

"Godric, weak little slave boy, come here!" Godric ignored him knowing that Eogen was just looking for trouble. If he responded, he would surely earn a few more beatings from Drest.

"Ha. I bet you're too dumb to even know what I'm saying!" Eogen shrieked. "Your sister is gonna make a good little whore, even if she is a Celt!"

Godric clenched his fists and bared his teeth, but still refused to return the taunts. A whoosh split the air as a sharp pain erupted on Godric's head. The bastard had thrown a stone at him! Finally Godric had had enough. Spinning around and crouching on the ground, he turned toward Eogen.

"Keep your hands off my sister you bastard," Godric growled

"What're you gonna do little slave," Eogen retorted, clearly pleased that his words had finally hit Godric, "run off to your mum? Oh wait… she's dead."

Suddenly, Godric couldn't hold back any longer. All the suffering he had endured in the village and the anger he felt towards his master and his life was coming out on Eogen. He sprinted the short length to where the boy was standing and leapt onto him, a hunger in his eyes. He watched as Eogen's face turned from one of smugness to one of terror and finally to agression, aimed solely at Godric. The boys each clawed at each other's backs and faces, throwing punches when they could get enough space to. It wasn't until Godric threw a particularly ferocious punch that connected with the older boy's head that the other villagers had to pull them apart, kicking and screaming, still trying to scratch each other's eyes out.

Later that evening, after yelling at Godric for a long time and promising him a violent beating as soon as his new wounds began to heal, Drest met with the elders of the village.

"The boy is a _slave_!" Galan, one of the elders, yelled

"But you cannot deny, he shows potential. He could have killed Eogen today, and the slave is half of that boy's size!" Talorc, the village chief, retorted. "We could use as many strong warriors as we can get. It would be the best thing for the tribe if he could be given proper training with the rest of the boys."

"So then what? He can then go back and turn on us for holding him as a slave! He would turn on us in battle and slit our throats as we return!"

"He is my slave!" Drest thundered. "You have little say in what I do with him"

"But he could kill us!"

"But he could become such a great warrior!"

"Silence! I will teach him in our warrior ways, but I will watch over him more closely than I ever have before. He has a tender spot in his heart for his sister still. I will use that against him to make sure he will always be controlled. That is my final decision."

"But-"

"I said SILENCE! _That_, is my final decision. The boy is _mine_."

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**AN:** I've written another chapter and will be putting it up once Im finished editing... I'm busy and can be an anal perfectionist so it may be a few days. Please review


	2. Tattoos

**AN**: Thanks for your feedback! During the editing process, I added a lot more than I originally planned, so this chapter is quite a bit longer than the last...  
Again, sorry for any historical inaccuracies. I tried my best to get it right.

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**Chapter 2**

_Tattoos_

The next day, Godric awoke early. He made sure he got up quietly, as to not wake his sister, lying on the cold floor next to him. Moving in silence proved extremely difficult today since his body still ached all over from yesterday's beatings. As Godric stepped outside the hut, the orange sun hit him in the face as cold air washed over him. The sun still hadn't risen to be much more than a sliver on the horizon, but it still seemed too bright after the dark gloom of the hut and he squinted, looking off into the distant green hills. To his surprise, Drest was already awake, quietly sitting outside the hut, sharpening a bronze spearhead. He looked up from his work when he heard Godric come out and quietly turned to face his slave, offering a rare smile upon his scarred, handsome face.

"How are your wounds?" he asked.

Normally, Godric wouldn't respond, for fear that his answer would prompt another beating. However, the uncommon smile prompted him to reply, "I will survive."

Drest chuckled quietly. "Well, I guess that's good. Because I am going to train you to become a warrior."

Godric's mouth fell open in astonishment. He had always wanted to be a warrior but thought that because he was a slave, he would never be able to. He thought the elders would never trust him with this. But it was the greatest honor.

"Some of the elders think you show great potential. They think you'll make a fierce warrior. I think you might show some strength. But I need you to know that this is not a reward. I expect you to keep up with your normal slave duties as well as your training. If you get behind on any of your tasks, not only will you receive a beating, but I will no longer train you," Drest said. "And don't think I am forgetting about your punishment for yesterday's skirmish."

"Y-yes master." Godric replied, his eyes dropping to the ground.

"Alright. Now, you mush listen to me…"

The lessons proved harder than Godric expected. Every morning, He would get up before the sun to start his training, and would not return to the hut until long after the sun had gone down. The cattle seemed even harder to herd after spending most of the day sparing and he often felt himself falling asleep on the job. If he got lucky, no one would catch him. If he were less fortunate, he would earn himself a beating from Drest. He hardly ever got to see his sister, Fhina, anymore, especially now that Genovefa had a new baby and was being even harsher than usual towards her. He could feel Fhina growing more distant, and the few times he still saw his sister, he would catch a remote look in her eyes, as though she longed to go far, far away.

Almost daily, Godric would receive a beating from Drest to punish him for some petty offense or just for drunken sport, even on days when he wasn't caught sleeping. The warrior was strong and after an especially hard beating, Godric would have to stay in bed for days, missing his chores and earning himself more pain. Drest was a good teacher but extremely temperamental and took joy at seeing his slave in pain.

After one particular hard beating, Fhina had to nurse Godric back to health. For the first time in a long time, they were together.

"Oh Brother, why do you still do this?" Fhina whispered. "If you were to stop training, all would be better. All would be back to how it was, when you didn't need to spend days at a time incapacitated by Drest's beatings."

Godric hesitated. He knew the reasons he always gave himself. That it was to be respected and that if he trained hard enough, Drest would free him. But somewhere deep inside, he knew that these were not the real reasons. Moments passed. Finally, "I train for strength. Strength that will someday lead me to a path," Godric quietly replied. "A path that will lead us out of this cursed place and into freedom."

"But you know Drest will never free you. You are worth too much."

"I never said Drest would be the one freeing me. Someday… my strength will be my freedom and I will be able to take us both somewhere far away"

"Oh, Godric, your fever is rising. Rest my brother and you will find your strength. Dream of freedom." And with that, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a life where he was the one with the power.

Despite the difficulty, soon Godric became one of the best young warriors in the village. Finally, when Godric was about fourteen years old, he was sent off alone to kill a wolf. To make sure the slave didn't escape, Drest threatened to kill his sister if he didn't return in five days. Two days later, he strode back into the village with the pelt and meat, a record for one so young. He had earned himself his first tattoo. This was something to be proud of, especially for a slave boy. It was a symbol of manhood and respect. Finally, Godric knew he had found something he was good at inflicting. Death.

The first tattoo was the most painful. The village spiritual leader called Godric over to his own hut shortly after his return from the hunting expedition.

"The elders and I have agreed. You may be a slave, but your prowess as a fighter can no longer be ignored. You will be bestowed with your first body painting."

The tattooing took a long time and was exceedingly painful. The man spent hours using a set of sharp needle-like tools and ink. He traced a delicate half-halo on Godric's chest. About every finger's breadth, the man would draw on a sharp spike, protruding from the dark halo and pointing away form his neck. The pain was nearly unbearable, but Godric refused to utter a single sound of complaint. He wasn't about to ruin this that he had worked so hard for by showing weakness.

Godric knew that, being a slave, he would never be recognized as a true man, but if a tattoo was the only thing that earned him respect, he would be content with it and wear it with honor.

However, Godric's joy didn't last very long. Only a few days later, Genovefa caught Fhina trying to escape into the surrounding hills. Genovefa's rage was deadly. She beat Fhina until she could hardly move, then tied her onto a pole outside the hut to spend the night and forbid Godric from helping his sister.

During the night, the men from the village came and raped Fhina as she hung there helpless. His sister's screams as the village men ravaged her would forever be tattooed into his memory. Godric spent days nursing Fhina back to health and never forgave Genovefa for the pain she had caused his sister. He swore to himself that someday, he would make Genovefa suffer for all the pain he had cause his sister. Fhina was never the same after that night.

After proving himself to be a skilled hunter, Godric was finally allowed to ride into battle with the other Picts. Godric went into each battle with new fervor, fighting with newfound savage strength for his sister, taking out every bit of his anger onto those in the villages they warred against. He became fearsome, and, even though, he was still a slave, he was soon adorned with more and more tattoos telling stories of his feats. Neighboring tribes soon learned to fear the warrior slave boy.

However, it seemed as though his own tribe of Picts wasn't the only thing preying on neighboring villages. Stories had been reported of tribes suddenly loosing men and women. People whispered of mysterious disappearances, and people turning up, miles into the woods, with strange marks all over their bodies. No animal could be found that could have inflicted these wounds and the villagers lived in fear of some unseen beast.

But even after everything he did, Godric still couldn't earn his freedom. Fhina still had to labor away day and night helping Genovefa, and Godric always was tending to the herds when there was no fighting to be done. After every battle, Godric would return, dragging the decapitated heads of the numerous he killed, his bare chest covered in dirt and gore, and hope that the tribe would reward him for his fearless fighting with his freedom. Instead, he still had to endure Drest's beatings and watch his sister grow more and more frail as she worked tirelessly in the gloomy hut.

One night, when Godric had seen nearly 16 years, he was sent on a hunting mission with Drest and a few older tribe members. The found the beast near a cave by the sea. The creature was warming itself in the sun. The hunting party managed to corner it against the cave and Godric threw the spear that took its life. A few miles away, the hunting party was able to set up camp on top of a small hill.

In the last few hours before sunset, they skinned the wolf and made a small meal of some of the meat. They reasoned that it would be better to try to return to the village as soon as possible, and set off back for the tribe right after the sun went down. Everyone knew the land well enough that they weren't about to get lost. Little did Godric know, that sunset woul be the last rays of the sun that he would see for a very, very long time.

Even as the hunting party was just nearing the village, they could sense something was not right. When they got there, they found the village in shock. Galan, one of the elders, had gone missing in a way very similar to the horrors that the other tribes had described. The village had sent a party to look for him and had discovered his body with the same animal marks on it as had been feared. Mothers were cradling their crying babies. Everyone was terrified that they would be next.

In all the pandemonium that had surrounded Galan's disappearance, Fhina had tried to escape again and was caught, beaten and strung up outside Drest's hut. As Godric ran to comfort her, Genovefa hit him hard across the back with a copper pan and threatened to beat Genovefa even more if he didn't quietly go inside the hut. Not wanting to cause more pain for Fhina, he sullenly complied.

That night, Godric couldn't sleep. When the moon was nearing its highest point, he heard a sound outside the hut that made the hair on his arm rise. Careful to not wake Drest or Genovefa, he quietly snuck outside to where Fhina was tied up.

There, bathed in cool moonlight, was the most beautiful woman Godric had ever laid eyes upon. She looked to be about twenty years old, but her beauty was far more powerful than that. To Godric, she looked like a goddess. Her hair was long and dark and contrasted greatly with the shocking paleness of the rest of her skin. She wore only a white cloth wrapped around her bosom and waist and over a shoulder. It was stained in many places with dirt and blood and looked older than Godric himself.

Somehow, she hadn't noticed him yet, standing there in the shadow of his hut. She seemed to only have eyes for his sister. The ropes tying Fhina up had been tied tightly and were digging into her wrists. Now, a faint trickle of blood ran down from the gash one of the ropes had created.

The beautiful woman seemed completely taken over by this faint line of blood. With inhuman speed, she lunged across the moonlit path and onto Fhina, totally absorbed in the hunt. First she went for the wrists from where the blood was now streaming out. When she had licked that dry, she went for Fhina's neck. He beautiful, dark hair was now covered with blood, and red, thick liquid ripped down her chin and onto the white cloth she wore. Fhina was almost too weak to cry out. She uttered a few weak gasps her eyes wide with terror, and then passed out again, her head lolling even further to the side.

Godric however, lunged out of the darkness at the evil woman, bearing a bronze hunting knife, He made contact with the woman's shoulder, but before he could even wrench the knife out of the woman's back, she turned around on him and growled, baring moon-white fangs, stained red with blood. She was terrifying. Dark red blood dripped from her moth and chin and her eyes shone with the ferocity of a rabid beast.

"DON'T TOUCH MY SISTER," He screamed. He didn't care if this woman looked as though she were about to devour him and his whole village. Something had snapped inside him. Never again would he allow someone to walk all over him, forcing him into submission and beating him when they felt like hit. Never again would he allow someone to harm his beloved sister. Never again.

Before Godric knew what had happened, His feet were off the ground, and his back was against the hut. The goddess's hand was clenched around his neck.

"How dare you disturb my hunt," she said, in a voice that emanated power.

"She is my sister," Godric gasped, struggling to keep breathing. "You can't hurt her,"

"Oh, but I can have whatever I want."

"Not her!" Godric shouted, kicking out as hard as he could toward the goddess's stomach. His foot connected and she was thrown backwards just enough to accidentally release Godric. The slave hit the ground and rolled toward the spot where the knife had fallen. He picked it up and was nearly stabbing it into the goddess when, faster than lighting, her hand was back at his throat.

"You're a curious one," she said quietly, almost as though she were thinking.

Godric spat in her face. For a second she once again looked murderous, but suddenly, a sly smile crept across her face. "Yessssssss. You are the one I have been looking for." And with that, her fangs went to his neck, the screams erupted, and everything went blank.

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**AN**: hope you like it and please review!


	3. Free

**AN: **So, sorry bout the long wait for this chapter. I was away for a few weeks and just got back. Anyway, enjoy!

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**Chapter 3**

_Free_

Godric felt weaker than he ever had before in his life. His body ached like nothing he had ever felt before and he didn't even have the energy to move his arms. His eyelids seemed to be made out of lead, but somehow, he managed to open them.

Above him was the beautiful woman who had attacked him earlier. Her dark hair tumbled onto his own and her bloodstained face blotted out the moon, high above them. "Who. Who are you?" he mumbled

"I am someone who is lonely." She replied. He noticed he accent was thick, as though she weren't used to speaking his language. "But the important question is who are you?"

"My name is Godric, and I am no one. A slave."

"But that, my Godric, is where you are wrong. Villages near and far tell stories of your courage and savagery. They live in fear of the little slave."

"But I am only a boy. How can grown men fear me?" The beautiful woman must be crazy, but he still couldn't help feeling pleased of this feat. Fhina would be proud.

"Soon, you will be more than just a boy. Soon, no man will be able to not fear you."

"How is that possible? I will always be just a slave."

"Do you want to be free? Do you want the oppression to end?

He stared up into her olive-green eyes and his mouth formed around a word that would change him forever. "Yes."

She smiled a cruel smile as she brought her wrist up to her mouth. He watched as fangs ripped into the skin and the dark liquid spilled out, running down her arm and onto the moon-bathed grass by his head.

Slowly, she dropped her wrist to Godric's mouth. At first, repulsed, he soon caught a whiff of the blood and suddenly, his lips tightened around her wrist and her blood washed into his mouth.

"Drink up, my child," she cooed, and Godric remembered no more.

Darkness. Silence.

It was as though the night sky had closed in around him. He tried to move but couldn't.

Suddenly, something stirred behind him. A soft voice rang clearly in his ears. "Rise my child. This is your genesis." Godric flinched and the figure behind him started clawing upwards. The smell of dirt hit his nostrils and suddenly Godric realized where he was. In the ground. It wasn't the sky that had closed in around him; it was the earth.

With this new revelation, he started clawing upwards to where the dirt felt thinner and he could almost taste the fresh air. After what felt like and eternity, Godric's hand felt crisp air, and the rest of his body followed. At long last, he emerged, covered in dirt, onto the cold ground. The beautiful, woman was sitting there already, combing the dirt from her hair with long, pale fingers.

"What happened to me?" Godric asked her.

"You have been freed. From your humanity"

Godric looked around, soaking everything in, including this statement. There seemed so much out there. He could feel something pulsing through him. And another something seemed to be gnawing at his insides. He could see every blade of grass and hear the beating heart of a wolf in a cave a distance away. He sensed every movement around him from the wind through the grass to the sound the woman's lips made as she pressed them together.

But above all else was a hunger. The deepest gnawing at his insides that Godric had ever felt. His body ached all over from it. It filled him with the most profound longing and made him weak. He longed for a hunt; he longed to feed.

"Everything you are feeling is a result of your transformation," She said, seemingly reading his thoughts as her fingers parted her straight hair.

"What have I become?" He slowly asked, staring at his hands as he sensed the power throbbing through them.

"You have become death. You are a god of darkness and the night. But I believe your people called my kind something more like… sooder folley"

"Blood sucker…" Godric had heard the stories as a young boy in his Celtic village. Stories of beautiful women seducing young men in the night and luring them into the darkness, only to suck their blood and kill them. For some reason, these stories that had given him nightmares as a child, suddenly didn't seem so frightening. "Who are you."

"I am your maker. And I will be your mother and lover. But you may call me Persephone. But now, little one, you are hungry." It was not a question. "Come my child. Let us find you something to eat."

She stopped him just as the village was coming into view. It lit up the horizon with dozens of little orange fires sending a gray smudge up into the heavens, blotting out bits of the beautiful stars. Her hand ran through his dirt-matted hair and down his neck and rested on his chest. Her lips parted next to his ear.

"Now, my pais, we hunt."

It seemed to take forever for them to close the rest of the distance to village.

Two men that Godric had known were standing guard outside the village. Each looked tense and on edge. Both lowered their spears to chest level as they saw Godric and Persephone approaching.

"Who goes there?" The heavily bearded one barked. Godric couldn't help but notice the large vein on his neck beating steadily, something he would never have percieved before.

"Ohh, its Drest's little slave boy!" The other one jeered. "Where you been at, boy? You've got some serious beatings commin yer way, runnin off like that for a few days. If I were you, I wouldn't 'ave come back. And who's this foxy lady you've got with ya?"

The woman stepped up to the more clean-shaven of the two and looked him in the eyes as one hand went up to his chin. "I think you really want to let us into this village," She told him in a calm voice.

"Oh," he replied. "I think I'm gonna let you two pass."

"That's a good boy," she said. The man only nodded slowly, his mouth slightly open. She released him and he slowly dropped his gaze. His companion was now staring at the group of them with confusion. "Now, we never came by here," she stated, staring deeply at each in turn.

As soon as they were in the village, Godric whispered to the woman, "A few days? I thought it had only been one night! And what did you do to those men back there?"

"The transformation takes a few days to complete. Now shush. We need to find you a meal." Godric couldn't help but notice she hadn't answered his second question yet.

"Why couldn't we have just taken those men back there? They looked so tempting."

"Because if you're anything like any newborn I have ever known, You need to… settle a few things before you'll be content. You're really looking for… closure."

"Closure? I just want to feed!" Godric snarled.

"You will see what I mean soon enough. And put away your fangs before anyone notices."

Godric's hands went to his mouth "Fan-?" and suddenly he felt something there that hadn't been before. There was something coming out of his incisor teeth. No. It was his incisor teeth. It was as though they had magically doubled in length and had been filed down to razor-sharp points. Surprised by this new discovery, he felt the fangs slide back into his gums, reverting to normal-sized teeth. People in the village had begun to spot him and Persephone. A slave who comes back into a village, especially with a woman, was sure to gain some attention.

Abruptly, he stopped walking. In the abnormality that surrounded him discovering his new fangs, Godric hadn't noticed they were nearing the hut he had lived in for the last decade of his life.

"Fhina!" he exclaimed and he was at the hut that held his sister faster than he had ever ran before in his life.

There, waiting for him was Genovefa. Her expression was livid. "You! You dare run away with some dark-haired whore. You dare run away from your respectable masters and bring shame to those who have cared for you. And you _dare_ return, strutting back like you have not wronged us!" Before she could raise the copper pan in her hand to use as a projectile, he was on top of her. His left hand was at her throat, his right, effortlessly holding her arms at bay.

"Give me one reason not to kill you right now," Godric snarled, his fangs out for the second time. Genovefa's eyes were wide with fear. He could hear her heart beating frantically. He could smell the fear pouring off her like sweat, tainting the air around her. He could feel he veins throbbing under her hand and knew that at that second that he wanted nothing more than to rip her throat out and drink every drop of her blood, sucking her pathetic life dry as he sucked her blood.

He could feel every bit of anger he has ever felt towards her for the atrocities she had committed onto Fhina. She wasn't human. No. She was human, but Godric wasn't anymore.

He was more than human.

Everything about her just made Godric hungrier for her blood and for his vengeance. She seemed so pitiful. Godric felt his instincts take over. No, he willed his instincts to take over, to sever his ties with humanity and let the animal consume him. He lunged for her neck and felt his long fangs slide easily into the skin. He felt when the fangs broke into the beautiful artery, interrupting its melodious rhythm. Her warm blood flowed from the wounds as screams erupted from her mouth.

Godric felt as though he had never tasted something so lavish before in his life. It was as though every muscle in his body was singing with joy as the red sustenance ran through him. His body wanted more and more. He felt as though he would never be able to get enough and he sucked harder. Her flailing arms had no effect on his strong body. For those few seconds, nothing existed int he world but the blood and him.

Before he had drained Genovefa of all her blood, he heard the distinct sound behind him of a war-ready man rushing up on him. Quicker than a striking snake, Godric turned around, leapt up to meet the man, and grabbed his head, twisting until he heard the snap of a broken neck. Another man was rushing at him now. Godric could taste his adrenaline, and it only made him hungrier.

Godric lunged, and before the man had gotten more than a foot closer, the blood-covered boy was upon him. It was not another second before Godric had dug his fangs into the man's jugular and ripped out his throat, gushing blood everywhere. The man fell to his knees, a gurgling echoing from his torn throat.

Through the commotion surrounding his return, suddenly a familiar voice rang out. "Godric!" It yelled. The voice was stern and bold, but laced with surprise and fear.

If Godric had been infuriated earlier, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. The blood of the hunt was rushing through his body, fueling his anger, his hatred and his appetite. He turned to face the voice and found his master, Drest, standing there, his powerful arms holding a spear level with Godric's chest.

"Godric," he wailed. "What have you become? What have you done? You have killed Genovefa! How could you? She who has cared and cooked for you and your rotten sister. What have you done to your village?"

"Genovefa deserved what I gave her," Godric snarled. "She has given my sister and I nothing but pain. And this village and you have shown me nothing but unjustified suffering since I arrived. No matter what I gave for you, you have given me nothing but these scars of ink on my body. You may have taught me, but you never showed me any compassion."

With this, Godric batted away the spear and lunged at his old master. The pain of every beating he had suffered and every ounce of hatred he had ever felt toward the man laced through his veins and he felt more powerful than he ever had before. All the fear he had once felt toward this strong man had been erased, replaced by a savage need for vengeance. He was more than powerful. He _was_ power.

He smashed into Drest with all the force that was available to him and heard the man's strong shoulder crush with a crack. The man fell was lifted off his feet by the impact, his left shoulder being propelled first, sending him awkwardly spinning through the air. His mouth opened in pain as the scream came, echoed with fear and pain. Drest landed in the dirt ten feet away, cracking his head on a rock.

Blood trickled out, and before he could even think, Godric was on top of him again, his mouth closing with inhuman speed and strength against his master's muscled neck. But after ever taunt he had ever thrown at Godric and every punch he had ever landed on the boy's young face, he had no power now against the brute strength of the bloodsucker.

Persephone watched from the shadow of the hut as her young protégé sucked the life out of his torturer. Now she knew that she had picked the right one. This was the one she had been looking for hundreds of years. Even though he was just a boy, she knew now that he would make a wonderful pupil and companion.

As she watched, she heardDrest's heartbeat slow as the rest of the village gazed on in horror, too stunned to move. Power tended to affect people like that.

But now, she knew, Godric was almost ready to move on. Now, he was free.

* * *

**AN: **Thanks for reading! If you know your Greek mythology, I hope you like the name Persephone. also, pais, according to wikipedia is child in Greek. I was trying to add in some of who Persephone is.

Also, I know this is a little different from the Godric we know at the time we meet him. But I'm trying to imagine where he came from and what made him the way he is.

And unfortunately, it will probably be a little while for the next chapter cause Im gonna be really busy for... a while. But please stick with me and review!


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